


Grease Monkeys

by lovesrogue36



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Exhibitionism, F/M, M/M, Masturbation, Pre-Blackout, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-21
Updated: 2014-01-21
Packaged: 2018-01-09 12:43:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1146135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovesrogue36/pseuds/lovesrogue36
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miles and Bass are fresh off their most recent tour and Rachel catches them in a rare tender moment while they're out working on the Challenger in the garage. | Pre-Blackout</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grease Monkeys

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, I don't have a clue where this came from. I don't know where it fits in the timeline, or where Ben and Charlie are, or why Rachel's working from home. Or, for that matter, how Bass knows she knows. Maybe she's just that obvious a Miloe shipper in her own right.

They’d been making a racket in the garage all afternoon, yet the yard was eerily quiet the moment the sunporch door slammed behind her. Rachel walked across the concrete patio, the summer heat soaking through the windows insistently, and cocked her head, listening. The stacked glass cups in her hand rattled, cool condensation slick on the handle of the lemonade pitcher, and finally, there was a peal of muffled laughter from just beyond the Challenger, it’s red and black nose peeking out of the garage.

“God, you fucking exhibitionist,” she heard Miles mumble, a rare laugh in his voice.

“That’s an awfully big word for you, mid-sex.” Bass, snarky and giddier than she’d heard him since returning from their most recent tour, two weeks ago.

“What? _Fucking?_ ” There was some grunting and moans mingled with the laughter, unmistakable.

Rachel’s eyes widened and she set the cups and pitcher down on a patio table as quiet as she could manage. Surely they couldn’t be- Tiptoeing across the hot room, she lifted the corner of the blinds that blocked the garage from the house and pressed a hand over her mouth. In surprise or lust, she wasn’t sure. Maybe both.

Half hidden behind the Challenger, Miles lay on his back on the red creeper or crawler or whatever it was called, grease smeared on his cheeks and Bass sprawled out on top of him. Their jeans were pulled down around their thighs, Miles’ dangling off one foot, and she couldn’t see much, really, but _oh_ did she get the idea.

Rachel sucked in a gasp, rushing to stifle it with a knuckle between her teeth. As she stood there watching, brazen and glued to the spot, Miles reached up to hook a hand in the bumper of the Challenger, hair falling in his face and jaw clenching.

Ducking his forehead to Miles’ chest, Bass braced himself against the concrete floor with one graceful hand and reached the other between them. Based on the familiar strained look on Miles' face, she knew exactly what he was doing: harsh and quick, thumb flicked over the tip, god she remembered how he liked it as though it were just yesterday.   

There was something unfamiliar here too, though, and Bass’ hips rolled, presumably thrusting inside him, and wasn’t that just the most tempting idea?

She knew what it felt like to have Miles inside you, that hard, slick- Rachel bit her lip over a moan. But to be inside _him?_

She didn’t think she’d ever been so jealous in her life as she was just then of Bass.

Miles drove his fingers into the other man’s curls with a grunt, yanking his head back and diving his tongue in his mouth, slick and slippery and incautious. Just like a man. Without thinking, Rachel slid her hand beneath the waistband of her pants, holding the blinds open a few inches with her free hand still braced on the window trim. She slid beneath sensible panties, long past the lacy trim days of their affair, and flicked efficient circles against her clit. Her insides clenched, knees buckling so she had to lean into the wall, but they had a headstart on her and she watched them come in each other, on each other. Each absorbed in the other.

Swearing under her breath as they pulled apart, righting themselves, Rachel dashed back inside, the lemonade long forgotten and the ice no doubt melted. By the time the screen door banged shut behind them, the boys tumbling into the kitchen, she was back sitting at the table with designs for- honestly, she couldn’t remember just then but it wasn’t like they were going to ask her questions about it.

Their shirts and jeans were covered in black handprints and a tiny voice in the back of her head had to ask what their cocks must look like. She could only hope they didn’t notice her blush.

“Sorry we’re such a mess, Rach,” Miles laughed without looking at her, swatting at Bass. “Sprung an oil leak out there.”

“Boys will be boys, right?” she asked, her voice sounding shaky and aroused to her own ears, thighs crossed tight together.

Miles was already halfway down the hall, heading for the shower no doubt, and _there_ was a thought she had to struggle to shove away. But Bass twisted around in the door, a wide grin splitting his face. How he knew she knew, she’d never be sure.

He caught her eye and winked.

Just once. A single wink that would hang between them for the next twenty years.


End file.
